From the corner of my eye, I notice Cillian and Artem enter the room. Both look a little banged up, but there’s definite bloodlust in their eyes.
They’re ready for the big fight.
We all are.
“That is my woman!” Rokiades says furiously, his eyes flitting over his men.
The thing about “his” men, though, is that it’s not quite accurate. Some of them are Greek, yes. But some of them are Lombardi. And more still are probably Mariani.
And Renata—the true heir to the Lombardi and Mariani families—has just walked in and run straight to me. After I’d told the entire room that she’s carrying my baby.
I take another quick scan, realizing that Drago isn’t here. He’s not high on my list of priorities, though. My only priority is standing right in front of me, acting oblivious to the warzone she’s just entered.
“Renata!” Rokiades screams. “I will kill that Irish cocksucker right in front of you.”
He raises his gun-wielding arm, but Renata acts immediately. She steps in front of me. I try to push her behind my men, but she grabs the table and refuses to budge.
I’m pissed she’s here, but I can’t help marvel at her. The woman’s fucking amazing.
“The only way to kill him right now is to put the bullet through me,” she calls back. “Are you willing to kill me, Yannis?”
He flinches when she uses his first name. His hesitation is the only answer she needs. The only answer any of us needs.
Renata Lombardi is too fucking important to kill.
And she finally knows it.
“My name is Renata Lombardi,” she says, raising her voice. “But I have Mariani blood in my veins.”
I notice several men exchange glances. A fissure starts to form in the ranks. A few of them seem to want to set themselves apart from the throng crowded around Rokiades.
“And I do not choose Yannis Rokiades,” she says, her voice strong.
Rokiades’s face turns black. Vengeance, fury, betrayal… it’s all written across his sagging features.
Something is happening.
Then a man steps forward. He’s probably around my age, perhaps a little older. He turns grey eyes on Renata before looking straight at Rokiades. “When you approached our don, you said that Renata Lombardi was under your protection. You told us that she willingly agreed to the marriage.”
Rokiades snarls at the fissure opening up in front of him. “Who the fuck cares?” he rasps. “She doesn’t get to pick.”
The man glances back towards us. I meet his gaze.
“Renata,” the Italian commander booms, “are you aligning yourself with the Clan?”
“I am,” she says without hesitation.
A thrill of some unnamed excitement courses through my body. Has she derailed Rokiades’s entire power grab with her mere presence? Her refusal to be the victim anymore?
The Mariani commander nods slowly and glances towards his men. “Then we no longer find ourselves in common cause with Rokiades and the Greeks.”
Renata smiles slowly, her eyes trained on Rokiades. “Do you hear that, old man?” she taunts. “It’s over. Tell your men to put down their weapons.”
“Over?” Rokiades snarls. He shakes his head. “It’s not over until I say it is.” He holsters his gun and pulls out a small device from the pocket of his jacket. He holds it up, making sure everyone can see it. “This denotator is rigged to a bomb that will take out the entire compound,” he explains. “All I have to do is press the red button.”
There’s a tiny little light at the upper left corner of the device, just above the red button. It’s blinking fast.
“If you press that button, you’ll die, too,” Renata points out.